


Clarity

by LadySlytherin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Underage Sex, it's complicated - Freeform, only also not really, only not really, only that one's also not really, yeah; still complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2329349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up, 17 and back in high school - or a reasonable facsimile thereof - and in a world without monsters, or demons, or angels. But there is Bobby, who he and Sam live with, so that's something. And then there's his best friend Gabriel Novak, and his kid brother, Castiel.</p><p>And as much as Dean knows he should be trying to find a way out of this place - because what if it was a Djinn or a witch or something entirely new? - how is he supposed to resist when he's finally got everything he ever wanted? A normal life, and a happy Sam, and Bobby, and <i>Castiel</i>...and...well, Dean's only human, after all. So if he goes along for the ride instead of fighting to get out...well, who could blame him.</p><p>But what happens when he wakes up, back home, and has to finally face everything he's spent years denying?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> Few points - one, this chapter is incredibly complicated and I apologize in advance.
> 
> Two - Sammy is older than he should be because if he was 13 or 14, parts of this fic would be deeply disturbing. O_O
> 
> Three - first time writing SPN smut, so...be kind! <3
> 
> Four - This takes places almost directly post-Season 5 finale; there's an explanation for lack of Soulless!Sam and Dean-at-Lisa's, so just give it a few paragraphs and you'll understand how it played out in this universe.
> 
> Reviews make my day; I read and cherish all of them.
> 
> ~ LS

Dean was jerked from sleep by a sharp, male voice. “If you continue to sleep through my class, Mr. Winchester, I am going to write you up. _Again._ Are we clear?”

Green eyes blinked rapidly as Dean struggled to make the classroom he was sitting in make sense. Still, even sleep-fuzzy and confused, his sassy tongue was whip-quick. “Maybe if you weren’t so boring, I’d be able to stay awake.”

Around him the classroom dissolved into snickers and – in the case of a few bolder students – outright laughter. The middle-aged, balding man at the front of the room – standing close to a chalkboard covered in what looked like some sort of history notes, if Dean had to hazard a guess – went bright red. Before he could say anything, though, the bell rang. Dean jumped to his feet with reflexes honed through years of doing his damnedest not to die and grabbed up the things closest to the desk he’d been seated at, assuming they were his own: a dirty white backpack covered in black sharpie – in the names of bands Dean favored – and the black leather jacket that was draped over the chair he’d been sitting on. In less than a minute, Dean was shrugging into the jacket while slipping out of the classroom.

His first order of business – find Sam. His second order of business – figure out what the hell was going on, where he was, and how he’d gotten there. Third order of business – gank whatever son of a bitch had decided to send him back to high school. He’d barely gone when he’d _had_ to as a teenager; the fuck if he was going a second time around! A niggling sensation in his belly had him reordering those items to second, third, and fourth orders of business respectively. First order of business was, apparently, finding a bathroom so he could take a piss.

Thankfully a bathroom was just up the hall, nestled into an alcove along with a girl’s bathroom and two water fountains that Dean wouldn’t drink out of if he was dying of thirst; the sheer amount of chewed gum lingering near the drains was nauseating. Teenagers were disgusting. Dean shuddered and went into the bathroom, making his way swiftly to the least-disgusting urinal so he could relieve his bladder and get on with the important task of finding his brother. He just hoped Sam was nearby.

As he zipped his jeans back up, Dean turned and caught sight of himself in the grimy mirror above the equally disgusting row of sinks. His heart stopped for one long moment, then started up again at twice the speed. There, reflected back at him, was...well, _him,_ but not. Or not _now-_ him, anyway; not thirty-year-old hunter-him. Instead, Dean was staring at a teenage version of himself. Seventeen, if he had to guess, or maybe eighteen, depending on what time of year it was, since he was still in school...a senior. He was a senior in high school. What the hell had he been whammied with?

“I bet it was a fucking witch...” He snarled, eyes narrowing dangerously as he fumed at the idea of being stuck as a teenager. Then he remembered being sent to the past by angels and groaned, hoping it wasn’t one of them. “Dammit, if those feathery bastards are behind this...”

The bathroom door swung open and Dean shut his mouth so fast he nearly bit his tongue. A jock – complete with letterman jacket – walked in and Dean dropped his eyes, hurrying out immediately. He had no desire to get into a fistfight with some punk ass kid. He just wanted to  figure out what the hell was going on and get the fuck back to normal. Soon.

Hell, Dean had only _just_ gotten Sammy back; he couldn’t lose him again!

Watching Sam jump into the Cage – bringing Lucifer, Michael, and Adam with him – had been the most devastating thing in Dean’s admittedly horrifying life. He had struggled with the promise he’d made to Sam: that he would go to Lisa and, if she would have him, start a normal life with her. He had tried – he _had._ He’d gotten into Baby and driven towards her, but he hadn’t been able to do it. He’d stopped halfway there, parked Baby in a random motel’s lot, and then found the nearest bar. He drank himself stupid for a week, then started driving again, determined to keep his word.

Three towns – and two hours – later, he was in another bar and well on his way to too-drunk-to-stand. And four days after that, Sam had reappeared, claiming no memory of how he’d gotten out of hell and a bit disappointed that Dean had failed to make it to Lisa, but happy to see his brother nonetheless. It had only been a month since then, and they had been hunting as usual. Castiel was in-and-out, doing all he could to help piece heaven back together in the wake of Michael’s madness – and against the archangel Raphael, who was determined to wreak a havoc all his own – but he too had claimed no knowledge of how Sam had been brought back.

Of course, the raised red handprint curled around Sam’s left hip spoke of angelic interference, but Dean wasn’t one to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Sam was back; he didn’t care how. Whatever angel had done the deed – raising Sam from Lucifer’s Cage and restoring him to Dean – well, he owed that particular winged dick a great big thank you, and possibly a slice of pie. Depending on how generous he was feeling whenever the angel in question finally decided to reveal themselves, of course.

For now, Dean figured he’d start searching classrooms for Sam. Hopefully Sam was looking for him, too; it would make the search go faster.

As he headed up the hallway, he noticed that most of the students were lingering in the hall, chattering at lockers and generally looking happy. He sighed in relief; it was clearly the end of the day. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with any more classes. Eyes peeled for a familiar mop of brown hair, Dean moved steadily up the hallway. Suddenly his eyes caught on someone he did _not_ expect to see.

And holy-fucking-hell, _especially_ not like this!

Castiel.

Only...not. Because Castiel had taken over his vessel, Jimmy Novak, when Jimmy was grown. And this was clearly a teenager. Fifteen, if that, based on the sweet baby face. Which meant that this wasn’t Cass; couldn’t be Cass. It was Jimmy. But if Dean was here, with a teenage version of Castiel’s vessel, then he was sure as certain going to talk to the kid. This might be _why_ he was here, after all. But good lord, Jimmy had been a fucking _twink_ when he was younger.

Dean couldn’t get past that innocent face, unmarred by worry lines around his eyes or scratchy stubble on his cherubic cheeks. Those huge, too-blue eyes were like a blow to the stomach; Dean could swear they were looking right into his soul, impossible as that was. And that full mouth was pouting ever-so-slightly, just like it did when Cass was sulking over something. Dean’s mouth felt dry as he swept his gaze over the T-shirt and jeans the boy was wearing; they clung to a lithe, delicate body. He knew Jimmy grew up to be 6’ tall, but this younger version was _tiny._ Dean figured he’d come up to about his shoulder, and god, he just wanted to ruffle that dark, messy hair. Teenage Jimmy was just...too cute for words.

The boy’s eyes shifted away from Dean’s and he kept walking. Desperate to halt the first person he’d recognized – in any way – he called out. “Yo, Novak! Hold up!”

Cass – _Jimmy,_ he reminded himself – stopped, back going ramrod straight even as his shoulders stiffened, then turned to face Dean with a wary look on his face. “Yes?” He asked and good god, Dean was so used to Castiel’s gravelly voice that the breathless husky tone took him completely by surprise. “Can I help you?”

Dean blinked in surprise when the boy’s head tipped quizzically to one side; the move was eerily reminiscent of the angel whose vessel he was and it had Dean stammering for a moment. “Wh...I...uh. No. I mean, yes? I don’t know. Maybe. I...” Dean cleared his throat, cursing the blush he could feel heating his cheeks as he stumbled over his words like an idiot. “Do you know who I am?”

Now the brunette was looking at him like he was a complete idiot. “Of course I do, Dean. It would be rather impossible for me not to, considering.” That head-tilt made another appearance, and concern shone in those cobalt eyes; Dean wasn’t sure which of them seemed more confused in that moment, but he was willing to bet on himself. “Did you hit your head in gym class? Are you suffering from amnesia?”

Dean opened his mouth, ready to jump at the excuse, when a hand slammed onto his shoulder and a loud, boisterous voice chirped. “Dean-o! There you are, buddy. Cassy isn’t bothering you, is he? I know how he can just go on and on about nothing.”

Dean turned his head to stare down at the golden-eyed teen who was grinning up at him, all teeth and laughing eyes. “G-Gabriel?” Dean gasped, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The archangel-turned-pagan-god was _dead_...wasn’t he? What the hell was going on? Then his brain registered what the angel had said. “ _Cassy?”_

Gabriel gave him a funny look, then rolled his eyes and drawled. “Yeah, yeah; I know he hates it. But then, you still call Sammich Sammy, despite his protests.”

Castiel – because apparently it _was_ Castiel, despite the fact that it couldn’t be – sighed in a put-upon manner and murmured. “I was not bothering your best friend, Gabriel. Dean approached me, though I’m not certain why.” Blue eyes flicked worriedly to Dean’s face and he asked. “What did you need from me, Dean?”

“I...” Dean floundered for a long moment, completely uncertain about what he was supposed to say now. In the end he settled for the first thing that popped into his head. “Have you seen Sammy?”

Cass frowned, worry still shining in his eyes, but answered softly. “I would imagine he’s waiting by the Impala, as he does every day.” His gaze shifted to his brother and he asked. “Whose house?”

Dean followed Cass’ gaze, turning to look at Gabriel, who shrugged, pulling a sucker out of a pocket and unwrapping it. He contemplated it for a moment, then said. “I vote their house. Less shouting, and all that rot.” Then he stuffed the sweet into his mouth, rolling the red ball from one side of his mouth to the other, the white stick shifting between his lips as he did so.

Cass nodded, clutching a stack of books tightly to his chest that Dean hadn’t noticed before. “That sounds fine with me. Sam and I have a test in chemistry, anyway. We’ll study better there than at home.”

“Great.” Gabriel’s words were muffled around the sucker, whose stick he’d clenched between his teeth as he spoke. “I gotta ask Bobby something about Sugar anyway.”

Dean’s mind raced – who the hell was Sugar, and where were they going that Bobby was going to be there, and _why_ – but he was hesitant to ask any more questions. Instead, he just nodded and followed Castiel and Gabriel as they headed out of the school. Cass was telling Gabriel about some kid who’d been bothering him during lunch; Gabriel was swearing vengeance on his baby brother’s behalf. Dean let them talk it out, knowing how it could be with siblings. Sure, Sammy had been able to take care of himself, but that hadn’t stopped Dean from stepping in on occasion, just because. That was what big brothers _did._

He spotted Sam when they were halfway across the parking lot. He was leaning against the door of a car that was decidedly _not_ Baby. Baby was parked beside the car Sam was lounging against, and she looked just as gorgeous as always. Dean’s lips curved up at the sight of her black-and-chrome lines and curves; she was his first love, and she was _perfect._ The car beside her was...well. Dean found it oddly appealing, despite the ostentatious and downright horrifying shade of orange it was painted. That _had_ to be Gabriel’s car; no doubt about it. Only the Trickster would drive something so...hideous.

Only...not.

True, the color was awful; there was no denying that. But the car itself – a series one, first generation, Dodge Charger, circa the sixties, same as Baby – was beautiful, in the same way the Impala was. Two doors to Baby’s four, with the same gorgeous slope to the frame where the rear windshield was, though the Charger was missing the “rear” windows, for all that it had a back seat; Dean had always loved that particular curve on his car and it was no less lovely on Gabriel’s vehicle. The Charger’s grill was less chrome, and it’s front fender had more sharp angles, and the hood’s design gave it less of a sexy finish and more of a rough-and-tumble muscle car feel, but still...the car had class, paint job aside. Dean had to give the car it’s props.

“Oi, Samsquatch!” Gabriel called out, snark and sass lacing his sugary tone; Dean snorted at the nickname because despite looking to be fifteen-ish, like Cass, Sam was already an inch or so taller than Dean and that meant he _towered_ over Gabriel. “What’d I tell you about leaning all over Sugar? You fuck up my car, and I’m taking the damage out of your ass. We clear?”

Sam rolled his eyes and gave the older teen a Sam-Winchester-Patented-Bitchface. “Whatever, Gabe. I didn’t hurt your precious car.” Then he smiled at Castiel. “We’re going to our place, right? Cause no offense, but your house is always...loud.”

Castiel smiled back with easy affection and Dean wondered at it; Cass and Sammy were never really that at ease with each other. But then, Cass had called Gabriel Dean’s best friend...so maybe as the younger siblings, they were, too. Here, anyway. The whole thing was making Dean’s head hurt and, apparently, he couldn’t even talk it out with Sam because this didn’t seem to be _his_ Sam, but rather the same sort of falsified construct as everyone and everything else. Which had Dean wondering if maybe this was another case of a Djinn getting ahold of him. Though if it was, Dean didn’t know _how_ because they hadn’t been actively hunting _anything_ before he’d woken up in that classroom, let alone a Djinn. In fact, they’d just finished a basic salt-and-burn vengeful spirit case, no Djinn in sight. Still, it was worth considering.

“Of course,” Cass said, still smiling as he opened one of the Charger’s doors and nudged the passenger seat forward, dropping books and his backpack onto the back seat. “Am I spending the weekend?”

Sam nodded as Dean circled Baby and unlocked her, letting his brother into the car. “Sure. Bobby won’t care, you know that.” He glanced over at Dean. “Gabe’s spending the weekend as well, right? I know he’s been bitching about Sugar’s engine, so I figured you two would be searching the yard for parts, then harassing Bobby into helping you fix whatever’s wrong.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed, his eyes flicking back to the school behind Sammy; the building was clearly labeled as Sioux Falls High School...which meant Dean knew where he was, and how to get to Bobby’s house. He might not have understood _why_ they were living at the Singer Salvage Yard, instead of with their dad, but at least he knew where he was going.

Dean got in and revved Baby’s engine, savoring the rumbling purr. Beside them, Gabe did the same with the Charger. Sugar’s low growl was a sound Dean appreciated in a way he rarely appreciated anything that wasn’t Baby. Or pie. But that sound? It was _perfect._ Dean decided he could understand befriending the Trickster in this universe – wherever _here_ was – when the other teen had such exquisite taste in cars. He couldn’t wait to get under Sugar’s hood.

Pulling into Bobby’s scrapyard felt like coming home, in a way very little ever had to Dean. He’d barely put Baby in park before Sam was out of the car like a shot, yelling. “Bobby, Cass and Gabe are spending the weekend, and Sugar needs parts! Cass and me are gonna study and I’ll cook tonight!”

Bobby walked around the side of the house, wiping grease off a wrench with a rag, smiling. “No need to shout, Sam. I’m right here.” He nodded to Castiel and Gabriel as they climbed out of Sugar, then raised an eyebrow at Dean, who was leaning against Baby’s door, staring at him. “Everything okay, Dean? You look like you’re itchin’ to say something.”

Dean debated for a moment, then jerked one shoulder and said gruffly, “Where’s Dad?”

Sam went stiff, then turned and ran into the house. Cass shot Dean a reproachful look, then took off after the younger Winchester. Gabe snorted, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “Way to go, Dean-o. What’s got you asking after Daddy all of a sudden, anyway? Thought you were done with him after last time.”

Dean looked away, not saying anything since he wasn’t sure what was going on, and Gabe huffed in annoyance before giving Bobby a look of exasperation. “I’m going to see if I can find the part I need for Sugar, okay, Bobby? Let me know when dumbass here is through being stupid and has apologized for upsetting Sam-a-lam.”

Bobby watched Gabriel wander off into the mass of junked cars, then turned to Dean with a sharp look. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested again, Dean, but I haven’t heard from John in two months. Not since you threatened to shoot him – with _my_ gun – if he came near Sam again.” Bobby moved closer to Dean, clapping him on the shoulder. “I understand why you did it, Dean. Nobody blames you, especially not your brother. But you have to make your choice and stick with it. Sam...or John.”

Dean frowned, wondering what the hell his dad had done that had resulted in him threatening to shoot him; that didn’t sound like him at all. “I don’t like having to choose,” he said, trying to get Bobby to tell him more without having to ask. “You know if it ever came down to it, Bobby...it’s Sammy, hands down. But I don’t _want_ to choose.”

“Sam was pretty sure the black eye was it coming down to it, Dean.” Bobby shook his head, hand dropping from Dean’s shoulder, looking disappointed. “I’m not going to tell you to give up on your dad, kiddo. That ain’t my call. But John’s a mean sonuvabitch when he’s drinking and lately, that’s been all the time. There’s a reason you boys are here, and not with him, and you know that.”

Dean’s mind raced. Black eye? _Sam’s_ eye? Well, no wonder he’d threatened to shoot his dad. So here, John was a violent drunk – not too far off from when they’d been kids really – but without monsters to swing at, he was swinging at _them?_ Or Sam, at the very least. Well. That was that choice made.

“I have chosen,” Dean said, voice firm and stubborn. “I have. I just...wanted to make sure he wasn’t back in the area. I don’t want him around Sammy. I’ll...I’ll talk to him. Explain what I meant. I wasn’t trying to go looking for Dad, or forgive him, I swear.”

Bobby studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Just...sort it out with Sam, or he’ll be pouting too much to make dinner and then I’ll have to cook for you idjits.”  
  


Dean laughed, then nodded. “I’ll go deal with Sammy.” He glanced in the direction Gabriel had gone, then added. “Can you figure out what Gabriel needs for his car? I’ll help him fix the engine tomorrow, if you can just sort out the parts.”

Bobby shook his head and muttered under his breath, but headed after Gabriel. Dean headed into the house to apologize to his brother.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean had apologized to Sam, who had forgiven him almost as easily as Dean remembered him doing when they’d actually been this age. Back when Sam had worshipped him and wanted nothing more than to be just like his big brother; back when Dean could do no wrong. Then Sam had headed into the kitchen to make dinner – some sort of pasta-thing, if Dean had understood his babbling correctly, but which he’d choke down even if it was disgusting, as a secondary, silent apology – and Dean had clunked up the stairs to his room. He had considered going and finding Gabriel, but he wasn’t sure he was up for the Trickster’s boisterous personality right then.

He had barely flopped down onto his bed – it had taken him two tries to find the bedroom that belonged to him, though it had wound up being the one he had been given when he and Sam had spent a few weeks with Bobby when they were very young, while John was off hunting – when a timid knock sounded on the wooden door. Dean grunted and the door cracked open, a pair of gorgeous blue eyes peeking in. Dean couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips at Castiel’s cautious entry; it was so different from the way he normally popped in, right behind Dean, but it was oddly similar as well. Dean figured it had to do with the hopeful look in those baby blues, and the entreating tilt of his head.

“Come on in, Cass.” Dean patted the bed next to his hip, not bothering to sit up as Castiel slipped inside and shut the door softly behind himself. “What’s up?”

Castiel shrugged, looking uncomfortable as he sat down beside Dean, who was still sprawled diagonally across his bed. Dean watched as a blush suffused Castiel’s pale cheeks and wondered what had the younger teen so ruffled. “Dean...I...” Cass took a deep breath, then asked hesitantly. “What did you want, earlier? In the...the hallway?”

“Nothing.” Dean shook his head, waving off the question with a half-hearted dismissive hand gesture. “I took a nap during history and was a little out of sorts is all. Forget it.”

“But, Dean...” Cass bit his full lower lip nervously. “I just...don’t understand. You never approach me during school. If something is wrong...”

“It’s not,” Dean insisted, rolling his eyes at how uncertain Castiel was. It was annoying, but oddly adorable at the same time. “Just...stop talking, okay?”

“Oh...”

Cass breathed the word with relief, and then Dean’s eyes flew wide open as the younger teen leaned down and crushed their mouths together. Dean sucked in a startled breath through his nose, then jolted in surprise when Castiel’s soft hands slid under the front of his T-shirt, dancing along the waistband of his jeans and making his cock twitch with sudden interest. A tongue shifted along his lips, seeking entrance, and those agile fingers stroked over his belly, seeming to know exactly where to touch to make Dean squirm and pant, his arousal going from _‘maybe-this-could-be-interesting’_ to _‘hell-yeah-I-want-this’_ in ten seconds flat.

But his head was reeling and Dean had a bad tendency to overreact to things that he didn’t quite understand. Before his body could convince him this was the _best_ thing to ever happen, Dean was shoving Castiel away from him. Confused blue eyes stared at him, slick pink lips parted in confusion, head tipped to one side in an unspoken question. Dean was shaking all over and he pushed himself up to sitting, moving further away from Castiel at the same time. There was too much happening at once; too much that he just didn’t understand...

“Dean?” Fear had crept into Cass’ eyes and uncertainty settled into his posture. “Did I...did I do something...wrong? I just...you said stop talking and...and that usually means...I mean, that’s what you say before...before you kiss me...and I thought...”

Misery soaked into that husky voice and tears filled those bright eyes as Cass whispered brokenly. “In the hallway...you were going to break up with me, weren’t you? I thought...I thought maybe you were going to tell me you wanted...wanted to tell...you know, not everyone, but maybe our brothers...and Bobby...but you weren’t, were you? You’re breaking up with me.”

“Cass...” Dean’s voice was gentle and soothing even as his mind raced to process everything Castiel was saying, and everything he _wasn’t_ saying as well. That they were dating, and it was a secret, and he liked to shut up the younger boy’s babbling with kisses, and that...that he thought Dean was breaking up with him.

__

“Don’t!” Castiel’s voice had gone low and dangerous, eyes flashing heatedly through the tears. “Don’t you _dare_ try to be kind about this, Dean! If you’re breaking up with me, just do it. Don’t drag it out, or act like it’s for the best. You don’t get to be gentle while breaking my heart!”

And the heartbreak in those words – in Castiel’s eyes – was what made Dean’s choice for him. Regardless of his relationship with the angel in _his_ world – with the staring, and the awkward closeness, and the fact that he was always aware of Castiel in a way he’d never been aware of anyone, not even Sam – in _this_ place, they were together. Dean was selfish enough to grab hold of this while he could; heaven only knew when it would be taken away from him, after all. The last time he’d gotten this much “normal” had been when he was sixteen, and it only lasted long enough for him to start hoping he’d get to keep it before it had been ripped away from him. So maybe he’d wake up back home tomorrow, with a clueless angel who didn’t understand how maddeningly arousing he was with his tousled hair and huge blue eyes and innocent desire to be close to Dean, but for now...for now, he had a teenage Castiel, willing and eager to be with him. It was more than he’d ever dared hope for and he wasn’t letting a second of it go to waste.

“I’m not breaking up with you, you dork.” Dean shifted closer to Cass, rolling his eyes. “Calm down and stop being so dramatic.”

“But...but you pushed me away...” Cass leaned towards Dean, just slightly; an uncertain sway of his body, as though he couldn’t help trying to be close to him. “I don’t understand...”

“You just surprised me,” Dean soothed, reaching out and curling his fingers into that thick, dark hair; he’d always wanted to do that and now he finally could, even if it wasn’t real. “I didn’t mean to worry you, Cass. I promise I’m not breaking up with you.”

Cass made a desperate little sound in the back of his throat as Dean used the grip on his dark hair to tug the smaller teen’s mouth to his. Dean smirked against those full lips before diving in; he licked his way into Castiel’s sweet mouth, devouring him the way he’d wanted to for far longer than he’d ever be willing to admit to anyone. Cass made another little sound, shifting closer and sliding his hands back under Dean’s T-shirt, his fingers dancing over the skin of Dean’s sides as he pushed the fabric up. Dean separated their mouths just long enough to tug his shirt all the way off and toss it aside before sealing them together again.

Cass broke the kiss and made a punched-out sort of noise as Dean’s hands slipped under the dark green cotton of his T-shirt, rucking it up as he curled his palms around Cass’ slim waist. Dean grinned, all teeth and wicked intent, then pressed his lips to the smooth skin of his angel’s neck. He might not ever get _his_ Castiel – wings and intense staring and social awkwardness and all – but this...this construct or whatever he was…would have to do. Pushing that thought – the thought that this wasn’t real; that it would _never_ be real – out of his mind, Dean removed his mouth from Castiel’s skin long enough to drag the younger boy’s shirt up and off. 

Cass’ voice was breathless and lower than Dean had heard it since arriving; it was much closer to how he sounded as an adult, all gravel and growl. “Please...Dean, _please,_ I want more...”

Dean groaned, his lips finding Castiel’s collar bone, teeth marking the skin with more force than he’d initially intended. But Castiel moaned and shivered, fingers sliding over Dean’s shoulders, then up his neck to fist in his hair, pressing the older teen’s mouth closer to his skin. Dean shifted one hand to the center of Castiel’s chest, using gentle pressure to push the dark-haired boy onto his back, leaning over him, mouth still sucking bruises into the pale skin of his throat and shoulder. Cass whined, hips bucking up of their own accord as Dean sucked right where his shoulder met his collar bone.

“Like that, angel,” Dean asked, the endearment slipping from his lips without his permission.

Cass nodded, then keened when Dean rolled to the side, taking Castiel with him until he was the one lying on his back, the blue-eyed boy above him. “D-dean, I...” Castiel was panting, pupils blown wide with lust, staring down at Dean with a want that bordered on desperation.

“Shhh...” Dean crooned, gently settling Castiel’s weight on him, urging the boy to straddle his hips. “Just do whatever feels right, Cass.”

Castiel nodded, deep blue eyes fluttering shut as his head fell back when Dean’s hands curled around his hips, thumbs stroking tantalizingly over his hipbones. His hips rocked and Dean groaned, arching up into the sweet pressure of Castiel’s ass against his erection. Even through the layers of two pairs of jeans and boxers, the friction was amazing. Dean slid his hands up Castiel’s sides, sitting up just a little as he pressed one palm just below Castiel’s shoulder blades, bringing the brunette close enough for a kiss.

As he licked his way into Castiel’s mouth, his hand slid up, between the brunette’s shoulder blades, still pressing firmly. Dean jerked back, startled, when Castiel’s spine arched sharply, his hips thrusting down with surprising force, a wrecked moan dragged from his throat. Dean eagerly dug his fingers into the sensitive skin, just at the top of Cass’ spine, his own hips rutting up against Castiel when the boy made another equally wrecked sound, his whole body shuddering against Dean. He had no idea why Cass was reacting the way he was to such a simple touch, but it was intoxicating to pull such an enthusiastic reaction from the serene teenager.

And then Castiel’s hand was between their bodies as he shifted backwards, onto Dean’s thighs. Dark green eyes opened, a question already forming on his tongue. It died when Castiel began tugging frantically at the button on his jeans, his lips pressing damp, eager kisses along Dean’s jaw as he murmured. “Want you...so much, Dean. Please...oh, please, Dean...”

“Yes...” Dean practically hissed the word, rolling Castiel over so he was once again above the brunette before he straightened up, hastily undoing his own jeans, since the fumbling teen hadn’t managed much progress with it, and kicking them – and his boxers – off the edge of the bed. “Fuck, Cass. Pants off. Now.”

Castiel whined, eyes glazing over with desire as his trembling hands unfastened his jeans. Dean was leaning over the edge of the bed, rifling through a nightstand drawer and muttering under his breath, and Castiel admired the golden skin that made up the perfect curve of his boyfriend’s ass even as he shoved his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off and letting them settle among the tangled mess of blankets and sheets that was Dean’s bed. Finally, Dean made a pleased sound and turned back around, a small bottle clutched tight in one hand.

The air froze in Dean’s lungs at the sight of Castiel, completely naked, spread out across his bed. Castiel’s hands were above his head, crossed at the wrists, his lithe body stretched out like a virgin sacrifice just for Dean. His pale skin gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the window above the bed, and his cock lay against his belly, flushed pink and leaking. His legs were spread, knees sprawled obscenely wide, completely on display. Those blue eyes were locked on Dean’s body, tracking over his flat stomach and his twitching cock, unashamed of himself and unembarrassed to be caught looking at Dean.

That stare caused a long, liquid pull low in Dean’s belly because it was just _so_ Castiel – unabashed, direct, intense. Castiel was, in fact, barely blinking. He was just...drinking in Dean’s body.

Groaning, Dean shuffled closer to Castiel, fingers clenched so tightly around the bottle in his hands that his knuckles were white. Cass’ eyes shifted to the lube, a funny little furrow appearing between his eyebrows and confusion tugging his mouth down just slightly. Dean barely noticed, fumbling with the cap and pouring some of the contents over one of his hands. When his fingers were coated and slippery, he settled himself between Castiel’s spread legs, tossing the bottle to the side. He was so eager he didn’t even notice that the bottle was still open, lube spilling over the sheets beside them, completely unnoticed.

When Dean’s fingers – shiny and slick – pressed behind Castiel’s balls, the brunette keened and thrashed his head, hips canting up eagerly. “Do it,” he demanded, the words rumbling out with a force Dean hadn’t expected from the quiet boy – they seemed more suited to the commanding angel from his world.

Dean pressed forward with two fingers and Castiel cried out, head thrashing again. His hands – still raised above his head – clenched around a bunched up portion of blanket, fingers flexing, digging in and releasing the fabric in rapid succession. Dean was panting, shoulders hunched forward, eyes locked on where his fingers were pressing into Castiel. Dean pushed in deeper, breath hitching in his chest when Castiel cried out again, pushing back eagerly onto his fingers. Cass was hot and tight around his fingers, bucking and arching and pleading for more.

Leaning down, Dean nuzzled his face into Castiel’s trembling stomach. His tongue darted out, licking salt off Cass’ skin and savoring the way those muscles flinched beneath the assault. Dean moved his mouth lower, teeth scraping over Castiel’s hip, fingers moving in and out of the smaller teen, stretching him. Castiel was shivering and writhing under him. And when Dean’s head turned to the side, his mouth brushing lightly over Castiel’s cock, the brunette’s hands came down, dragging across the sheets in restless agitation before fisting in Dean’s hair and pulling. Not in any sort of specific demand, but simply in a mindless desire to grab on to whatever part of Dean he could reach.

Dean chuckled, hot breath moving over the slick head of Castiel’s cock, causing the other boy to buck up again. Dean loved the noises Castiel made – the whines and moans and little pleas spilling from his kiss-swollen lips. He had barely swiped his tongue over the head – tasting Castiel’s skin and a faint remnant of soap and the sharp, slightly-bitter taste of precome – when Castiel apparently had enough of waiting for what he wanted.

He growled, fingers tightening to the point of pain in Dean’s hair, and begged Dean, in an utterly wrecked voice. “Now... _please,_ Dean...can’t wait...need you...”

Dean shifted up Castiel’s body in an instant, removing his fingers and curling one of his hands around Castiel’s slim hip. His other hand was still between their bodies, curled around the base of his own cock, guiding it to Castiel’s slick, loose hole. As he pressed the head of his cock forward, slowly breaching Castiel’s body, he leaned down, fucking into Castiel’s mouth with his tongue. Castiel sucked hard on Dean’s tongue, hips canting up as Dean slowly pushed forward. As Dean finally bottomed out, Castiel moaned into the hot, damp space between their mouths, panting heavily and unable to remain silent. Not that he’d been silent much at all, but Dean was _not_ complaining. He loved how vocal Cass was proving to be.

Between Castiel’s moans, his nails alternately tearing at the sheets and biting into Dean’s shoulders and the sweat-slicked skin of his back, and the sticky-hot press of his erection between their bellies, Dean had no doubt that Castiel was enjoying everything Dean was doing to him. Dean didn’t even care that one of Castiel’s hands was slicked with lube from the bottle that had spilled across the sheets he kept grabbing, smearing the slippery liquid all over Dean’s skin as he clutched the older teen closer to him. In truth, Dean barely even noticed.

Caught up in a heated daze of lust, Dean turned his head, pressing his mouth to Castiel’s shoulder. He sucked a bit of skin into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth until he was sure it would bruise; marking the brunette as _his._ His hips began to move – a slow pull back, then a steady push in that had Castiel whining and begging, _‘More...please, Dean...faster...harder!’_ Never one to disappoint, Dean sped up his thrusts, both hands gripping Castiel’s hips as he straightened up, kneeling between spread, trembling, milky thighs to get a better angle. 

A sudden, faint sound to the left had Dean’s head snapping to the side, though his hips didn’t still; he didn’t think he could have stopped fucking Castiel if God himself had walked in, demanding to know why he was defiling an Angel of the Lord – or at least a construct thereof. Of course, it _wasn’t_ God who stepped into the partially opened doorway to see Dean fucking a mewling, writhing, completely-oblivious-to-everything- not-Dean, Castiel. No, it was _much worse._

Dean locked eyes – green to bright gold – with Gabriel. _‘Fuck.’_

Dean’s eyes dropped for a moment to Castiel’s face – eyes squeezed shut, mouth slack and panting, face twisted with pleasure – and said a quick (possibly blasphemous, given the circumstances) prayer of thanks that the brunette hadn’t noticed his older brother’s presence. He continued fucking into Castiel’s tight, demanding heat, unwilling to give the boy a chance to notice Gabriel, and chanced a look back at the door. A small part of him was hoping his best friend would have left, but no such luck.

Instead, Gabriel had raised one eyebrow as though asking, _‘Seriously, Dean? Of all the guys you could’ve chosen, I find you balls-deep in my kid brother? What about the bro-code?”_

Dean gritted his teeth and glared back, the look on his face _very_ clearly stating, _‘For the love of everything, man, I know...okay, I_ know _, but can we_ please _not do this now? Kinda busy!’_

Gabriel rolled those golden eyes in response, but a small smirk played across his lips. Dean took the expression – followed as it was by Gabriel’s immediate retreat from the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself – to mean, _‘Fine, fine, I’m leaving...but this conversation will continue at a later date because, you know, that’s still my brother.’_

Which Dean could totally understand, and respect. And he would definitely give some serious thought to how he would explain – and apologize – to his friend... _later._ For now...well, for now, he had Castiel’s body tightening around him and sticky-wet-heat coating their stomachs, and _fuck,_ how could Castiel possibly get any snugger around him, because Jesus-fucking-Christ, he’d already been _so tight_ and now...

Now Dean was gritting his teeth against the urge to scream, Castiel’s own broken, pleasure-filled sobbing still echoing in his ears, as he spilled himself inside the only man – angel or otherwise – he had ever, and _would_ ever, love. 

As his body slumped forward – exhausted and trembling – Castiel’s hands came up, circling his body and seeming to savor the weight of him. Groaning, Dean used the last of his meager energy to roll them both to the side – _away_ from the puddle of lube soaking into the sheets and mattress beneath – so that Cass was snuggled into his chest with them facing each other. He smiled a little at the mournful sound Castiel made when the movement made his softening cock slip out of Cass’ body and just squeezed the smaller boy a little tighter, nuzzling into his hair. Sleepy and elated, Dean drifted off to the feel of Castiel in his arms, nuzzling his chest and making soft, contented sounds as he, too, fell asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gabriel was whistling happily as he wandered back into the living room, eyes moving appreciatively over the adorable, dimpled, awkward-puppy-ness that was Sam Winchester at fifteen. Sam glanced up, then raised an eyebrow when he saw the shit-eating grin on Gabe’s face. “Things going well, then?”

Gabe snickered, dropping heavily onto the couch beside Sam and waggling his eyebrows. “Oh, I’d say Cassy has Dean well in hand at the moment. All is going according to plan, _obviously,_ as it was _my_ plan.” Sam resisted the urge to point out that it had actually been half _his_ plan, and that many of Gabriel’s plans did, in fact, fail.

“We’ll be able to head out soon enough,” Gabriel continued. His grin shifted into a leer as he nudged Sam to the side, twisting the young teen until he was lying on his back, Gabriel above him. “But first...I think we need to take advantage of this... _unique situation.”_

Sam huffed out a laugh, but happily wound his arms around Gabe’s neck, warm and pliant beneath the older man. “In other words, you’re being your usual horndog self, but you’d like to top for once?”

Gabriel pouted, though his golden eyes were laughing. “Mmmm...yeah, pretty much.” He leaned down, nuzzling into Sam’s neck, all but purring when Sam obligingly tipped his head to give him more access to the tantalizing skin there. “You complaining, Samoose?”

Sam chuffed out another laugh, closing his eyes and relaxing into the nuzzling. “No, I suppose not.” His hips jerked up and his eyes flew open, a startled gasp slipping from his lips, as Gabriel suddenly bit down enthusiastically. “Fuck, Gabe! Some _warning_ would be nice.”

Laughter – hot and damp against his skin – worked its way out between the teeth still worrying the tender flesh where Sam’s neck met his shoulder. After a moment, Gabriel released the skin and murmured. “Now where would be the fun in that?”

Sam used one hand on the back of Gabriel’s neck to tug the archangel’s head into place for a kiss, licking into that sugar-sweet mouth without a second thought. Gabriel growled, sucking on Sam’s tongue like it was his favorite treat before chasing it back into the hunter’s mouth. He broke the kiss a moment later, keening, as Sam’s long, clever fingers dug into the sensitive spot between his shoulder blades. The cheeky human brat never did play fair, but Gabriel _loved_ that about him.

“Th-thought we were...” Gabe stopped to suck in a shaky breath – Sam’s fingers hadn’t stop pressing on the most sensitive portion of his human anatomy – before continuing rather weakly. “Doing this differently this time, kiddo.”

“Wasn’t even sure that would work.” Sam admitted, leaning up just enough to press his lips to the underside of Gabriel’s jaw, teeth nibbling teasingly. “Thought that you’d...you know. Bottled that up. You _feel_ like you’ve bottled it all up.”

“I can’t change where my wings are, Sam-a-lam.” Gabriel explained, using a knee to nudge Sam’s thighs apart so he could settle between them. “Even dampened the way they are, they’re still _there._ I’d imagine Cassy’s still sensitive there as well, even if _he_ doesn’t know why.”

“Mhmmm...” Gabriel had rocked his hips down into Sam as soon as he’d slipped between his legs, so Sam wasn’t really listening to the angel anymore. His hands slipped down Gabriel’s back, tugging at his T-shirt in an eager rush to get to skin.

Gabriel noticed and snapped his fingers, leaving both their clothes strewn across the floor in the blink of an eye. Seeing Sam’s raised eyebrow, he grinned. “What? Cassy’s too distracted by your brother right now to pick up on a little bit of a thing like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam didn’t seem like he minded though, considering how husky his teenage voice had gotten and the way he was pulling Gabriel closer to him, savoring the skin-on-skin contact. “You’re so impatient...”

Gabriel didn’t bother replying to that statement; it was too obvious to even address. Instead, he pulled away from Sam’s greedy hands, straightening up until he was kneeling between Sam’s eagerly spread legs. Sam was _gorgeous;_ all long-limbs and the faintest beginnings of muscle under sleek, tan skin... _fuck._ Gabriel had been with some of the most gorgeous beings – human, and otherwise – in all of existence, but Samuel Winchester took the damned cake. Here, at fifteen, Sam was showing all of the promise of what he would grow up to be – handsome, loving, gentle, protective, wildly passionate, and deadly. It was intoxicating, seeing him like this while knowing what he would become.

Gabriel rotated his wrist once, almost lazily, and Sam’s eyes riveted on his now-shiny fingers, licking his lips even as his pupils dilated. Gabriel grinned feraly back; there was very little of the archangel he’d been in his expression. He was, instead, every inch the pagan god. He dragged the tips of his slick fingers up Sam’s thigh, eyes locked on the long, thick, twitching cock resting against the teen’s stomach. Part of him wanted to tease – to reduce Sam to a whimpering, shuddering, pleading mess beneath him – but Sam had been right. He wasn’t known for his patience.

So instead, he immediately laid one finger behind Sam’s balls, pressing lightly as he slid it back until it was resting lightly against Sam’s opening. Sam whined and arched up into the touch, eager and wanton. Gabriel’s grin widened as he curled the fingers of his free hand around the base of Sam’s cock, stroking slowly, the slick index finger of his other hand still pressing and rubbing against Sam’s tight hole, which was slowly relaxing under the light touches. He leaned down, licking the head of Sam’s cock like a lollipop at the same moment he breached the teen, unable to stifle the grin at the broken moan Sam let out.

A little zap of grace and it was only a few quick thrusts in and out before Gabriel could add a second finger, and then a third. He continued pressing wet, sucking kisses to the head of Sam’s cock as he stretched him – not so much because Sam needed the distraction, but simply because, well, Gabriel had a bit of an oral fixation. And Sam tasted _delicious._ Musky and salty and sharp and oh-so-good. Not to mention he adored Sam; every, single inch of him, including his gorgeous cock. The way Sam moaned and panted – writhing so much Gabriel thought the couch cushions might wind up on the floor, possibly taking the both of them down as well – was just an added bonus.

Gabriel gave a final twist of his fingers – loving the wrecked sound Sam made in response – before pulling them out. He dropped a series of quick, sticky-damp kisses up Sam’s torso as he crawled back up that long, lean body, lining himself up. Another delightful aspect of fifteen-year-old Sam – he was almost four inches shorter than fully-grown Sam, which brought him closer – though still nowhere near equal – to Gabriel’s far-shorter stature. This made lining his cock up with Sam’s loosened hole much easier, since their mouths were still within reach of each other with only a little bit of leaning-down on Sam’s part. Which was fantastic because there was nothing better – in Gabe’s opinion – then getting to kiss Sam while they were having mind-blowing sex.

“Fuck me,” Sam growled, dragging his nails down the center of Gabriel’s back with enough force to have the archangel hissing in pleasure. Plus, he loved it when Sam got bossy and fierce. “ _Now,_ Gabe.”

“Your wish...” Gabriel murmured, unable to keep from smiling; but then, that _was_ his default facial expression. “My command.”

He pushed in, none-too-gently; one long, hard, deep thrust, which buried him entirely in Sam’s hot, slick body. Sam cried out, loving the rough entry that would have been borderline too much if Gabriel weren’t using his grace to ensure he didn’t hurt his lover. After all, what was the use of having sex with an angel if they didn’t pull out a few tricks in bed? And Gabriel knew _every_ trick in the book. He’d even invented a few new ones along the way.

Gabriel fucked into Sam, hard and fast and nearly brutal, though when their mouths met, the kiss was surprisingly tender. Gabriel teased Sam’s tongue with teasing flicks and light sucks, nibbling gently on his bottom lip whenever they broke for air. The contrast – soft, sweet kisses and having his ass pounded so hard Sam thought he might pass out from the pleasure of it – was perfect beyond words. Sam was well on his way to being completely blissed out, and he knew Gabriel knew it. But that was okay. As much as his angel loved teasing him, this was one thing Gabriel never mocked him for. He loved how much Sam let go when they were together, regardless of which of them was topping.

Sam closed his eyes, head thrown back and a desperate string of needy, wanton noises spilling from his lips, confident that Gabriel would take care of him. He slid his arms around Gabriel’s strong, compact body and dug his nails into the archangel’s shoulders, opting to just give in to the pleasure and hang on for the ride.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean wasn’t asleep for long when he was woken up by the need to piss and, contradictorily, a thirst that would rival that of a man who’d been lost in the desert for three days. Slipping carefully away from Castiel’s sleeping grip – which took him a few minutes, because the boy was apparently a clingy little thing – Dean grabbed his boxers from the floor and shimmied them up his hips before padding out of the room. Stop number one was the upstairs bathroom for a quick leak, then he headed quietly down the stairs towards the kitchen, intent on grabbing something better to drink than tap water in a toothpaste-splattered plastic cup.

It wasn’t so much that Dean was _trying_ to sneak for the sake of sneaking; he just really didn’t want to explain to Sam – or Bobby – why he was undressed and covered in scratches and...suspicious fluids. The conversation he’d have to have with Gabriel was going to be bad enough without compounding it with anyone else. So when he headed down the hallway towards the kitchen, he purposely avoided the floorboards he knew creaked. And then, when he heard a ragged moan from the living room...well, he was already moving quietly in that direction, so where was the harm in checking it out? 

If Dean hadn’t been feeling so lazy and sated, he might have stopped to think about who the moan could possibly have come from...and who else could possibly have been involved in causing the sound. And if he had stopped to think about it, he could have easily deduced the correct answer. And then he might have decided, _‘Nope; fuck that.’_ and walked back up the hallway, climbed the stairs, drank some barely cold tap water from a toothpaste-y cup, and gotten back in bed with Cass for a nice nap before dinner, all while pretending to have _not_ heard that moan. But, unfortunately, that wasn’t quite what happened.

Instead, Dean stepped into the living room and froze, utterly horrified by the sight in front of him. His baby brother – sweet, innocent, _teenage_ Sammy – was stripped naked, on his back, on Bobby’s sofa, spread out and clinging to _Gabriel._ Who was equally naked and, for-the-love-of-fuck, _thrusting_. _Into Sam._ Oh, _hell_ no _._ For one brief moment, Dean saw red. Every instinct in Dean screamed at him to yank the bastard _off his brother_ and kick his ass. Maybe stab him, too, while he was at it; just for good measure. His hands curled into fists and his lips peeled back as he snarled, fury blinding him to everything else – such as the way Sam was arching into Gabriel’s thrusts and making pleased sounds, clearly a willing and enthusiastic participant in the aforementioned proceedings.

Sam didn’t seem to notice, either Dean’s presence or the noise he’d made, but Gabriel did. His golden head snapped up, eyes going wide and then wary in an instant. He stilled – which, honestly, was more than Dean had done when their positions had been reversed only a short while earlier – and made a small noise that was half fear and half horrified amusement. Dean took a threatening step forward, hands still clenched at his sides. He was going to _kill_ Gabriel; this time, he really, _really_ was.

Then Sam whined. The sound was high and thready, made somewhere in the back of his throat and full of need. “Gabe...” His eyes were closed still, but his mouth was open as he panted softly, voice pleading. “Why did you stop? _Please_ don’t stop...”

Gabriel dropped his gaze from Dean to Sam, and Dean froze when those golden eyes went soft and warm, Gabriel’s whole face softening as well, because holy crap, Gabriel _loved_ Sam. “Sorry, Sammy.” Gabe murmured, though he didn’t start moving again. “We, uh, aren’t alone anymore.”

Sam cringed, squeezing his eyes tighter shut and looking like he was trying to sink _into_ the couch cushions as he asked weakly. “Bobby? _Please_ tell me it’s Bobby...or Cass. I’ll take Cass.”

Gabriel huffed out a laugh, dropping his head down to rest against Sam’s shoulder. “Afraid not, kiddo. I’m not sure what the proper etiquette is here, given the convolutedness of the situation, so...”

Sam made a pitiful little sound and Dean cleared his throat, interrupting despite not knowing exactly what he was going to say. Because Gabriel was in love with Sam and that was a big deal, but what was an even bigger deal was that Sam loved Gabriel. Which Dean could _tell_ because Gabe had called him _‘Sammy’_ and received no reprimand; no _‘Only Dean calls me that.’_ Not to mention, Gabe _had_ caught Dean with Castiel and let it go, and Cass was as much Gabriel’s brother as Sam was Dean’s, and there _was_ the whole little fact that none of this was even happening, _so_...so, yeah. This whole thing was a mess – and he and Gabe might have to swing at each other a little at some point, out in the yard where no one would break any of Bobby’s stuff, because if Dean was going along with this (and he certainly had been so far) for as long as it lasted, then he was doing it right – but Dean figured they could work past it, if he was here long enough for it to matter. You know, later. When no one – especially not Dean’s kid brother – was _naked._

“I’m just...going to go,” Dean said at last, voice gruff and uncertain. “Gabe, we can...talk later. About all of this.” He glanced at where Sam was peeking out at him with one eye from behind Gabriel’s messy golden-brown hair and muttered. “Just...if you’re happy, then...then I’m happy. Okay, Sammy?”

Sam nodded, Gabriel’s shoulders shook as he laughed silently, and Dean fled the room before he had to bleach his eyeballs. Because he’d seen _more_ than enough as it was and he did _not_ need to see anything else, _ever._

As soon as Dean left the room, Sam pinched Gabriel’s side, making the laughing archangel yelp. “Hey, what was that for?”

“For finding this funny,” Sam scolded, frowning up at him. “And I thought you said Dean was busy with Castiel! What the hell?”

“Guess they finished quicker than we did,” Gabriel snorted, then nuzzled into Sam’s neck, purring. “So, where were we, Sammich?”

Sam grumbled a little, even as he tipped his head to grant the angel better access. “What makes you think I’m still in the mood?”

Sam’s breath hitched in his chest as Gabriel shifted his hips, Sam’s still-hard cock rubbing and catching deliciously where it was pressed between their bodies. “Oh, I don’t know...” The smugness in Gabe’s voice shouldn’t have been as much of a turn-on as it was, but Sam had come to accept that he apparently had a thing for arrogance. “You seem _up_ for it to me...”

Smiling, Sam turned his head and pressed a kiss to Gabriel’s temple, murmuring. “You’re lucky I love you, Gabe, or I’d shove you off this couch right now.” He lowered his voice to a growl and added, “Now fuck me or I might do it anyway.”

Gabriel laughed again, but obligingly began moving his hips. Not because he was worried about Sam’s threat or anything, because he wasn’t. But because he loved Sam, too. And because he wanted to, of course. And mostly because Sam was right; as far as Gabriel was concerned, he was _very_ lucky that Sam Winchester loved him, and he’d be a fool to deny the human anything he wanted in return.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean felt something poke him in the shoulder and grumbled, swatting at it weakly without bothering to open his eyes. He didn’t _want_ to wake up, dammit; he wanted to snuggle his teenage Cass and pretend the whole world really was as simple as wherever he was stuck. A snorting laugh from above him somewhere said that probably wasn’t going to happen. A moment after realizing that, Dean realized his arms were actually empty of anything except a _pillow_ , so even if the poker went away, it _still_ wouldn’t happen. He sighed in annoyance, swatting a little more forcefully as he was poked again, even though it was probably someone trying to tell him Sammy was done making dinner.

“Go ‘way,” he muttered, burrowing into the blankets in an attempt to shut out the world, regardless of his lack-of-Castiel-to-snuggle. “ ‘m sleep’n’ ‘ere.”

Another snort, then Gabriel’s cajoling voice. “Come on, Dean-o; time to wake up.” A moment’s pause, then that voice added. “Also, don’t kill me, okay?”

Dean huffed, but a smile was tugging at his lips because Gabriel didn’t even sound worried as he said that, which was just _so Gabriel_ that it was funny. He rolled over at last, stretching and opening his eyes slowly as he asked. “Why would I, man? I mean, yeah, you and Sammy...so not cool, dude, he’s my kid brother, but...I guess, considering me and Cass...well. Yeah.”

“Ah...about that...” Dean’s head turned to follow the sound of that voice – which _did_ sound a little worried now – and he frowned and squinted at his friend.

Then Dean’s sleep-blurry vision cleared and he locked a stunned gaze on the archangel, who was half-hiding behind a fully grown Sam. Fury ripped down Dean’s spine faster than anything and he was scrambling off the hotel bed and lunging for his duffel bag, where he _knew_ there was an angel blade. “You little bastard!”

He’d just curled his fingers around the silver hilt of the weapon when Sam’s voice broke in. “Now, Dean, you have to know I’m not letting you kill him.”

“He...but...I...” Dean turned to gape at Sam, stunned to find the archangel still peeking around his brother’s rather imposing form. “You don’t even know what he did!”

“Yes, I do,” Sam said bluntly, giving Dean a knowing look. “He forced you to confront your feelings, and you’re pissed; fine. I get it. But you’re still not killing him. Gabe, _stop hiding behind me._ ”

Gabriel stepped smoothly around Sam, shooting the taller man a wounded look. “I wasn’t _hiding,_ Sammy. I was....strategically standing. There’s a difference.”

And Dean probably would have laughed, except...except Sam wasn’t snapping about the nickname. He was rolling his eyes and smiling a little, looking _fond._ And that meant...

_ “Sonuvabitch!” _


End file.
